Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first day of school always felt heavier for you than most.
Not because of the weight of books in your bag, or the stiff new uniform clinging a little too snug around your middle, but because of the weight in your chest, anxiety that whispered they’ll notice, they’ll laugh, you don’t belong here.
Fukurodani Academy was supposed to be a fresh start. A bigger school, new classmates, a chance to disappear into the shuffle. Still, as you stepped into the classroom, your gaze flickered nervously from group to group, already clustered together, chatting as though they’d known one another for years.
You ducked your head, clutching your bag strap tighter, and found a desk near the middle. The chatter swelled as more students entered, the air filled with laughter and the squeak of shoes against polished floors.
The teacher finally arrived, a stack of papers in hand, silencing the room. He began reading the seating assignments from the list.
“Y/N L/N, you’ll be seated here,” he said, motioning to the desk you had chosen. You exhaled in relief; at least you wouldn’t have to move.
“And beside you… Akaashi Keiji.”
Your eyes darted up just as a boy with messy, dark hair and an expression that seemed carefully neutral stepped forward. His uniform was perfectly worn, his movements unhurried as he slid into the seat next to yours.
He glanced your way once, meeting your startled gaze with calm, steady eyes. Not judging. Not curious. Just… polite. He gave a small nod in greeting before turning back to his desk.
That was it. No smile, no awkward joke just a nod. And somehow, it was enough to make your shoulders loosen.

The morning dragged on with introductions and syllabi. You doodled in the corner of your notebook, trying not to fidget when the uniform pinched at your waist. Your ears caught whispers from behind you girls giggling, the words “cute”and “Akaashi” tossed around like petals.
Of course. Your new seatmate wasn’t just quiet and composed he was admired. That made sense. He had that look about him: serious, reliable, the kind of boy people trusted.
You, on the other hand, felt like you stuck out in all the wrong ways.
During the break, you pulled out a plain rice ball you had packed for yourself. Nothing fancy just quick, easy comfort food. You tried to eat quietly, hoping no one would notice.
But of course, someone did.
“Already eating, L/N?” a girl behind you whispered loudly to her friend, just enough for you to hear. “Didn’t they eat breakfast?”
A bubble of laughter followed. Your throat tightened. You stared harder at your desk, willing yourself invisible.
Akaashi didn’t react. Or maybe he hadn’t heard. You told yourself not to care, though your appetite dulled instantly.

By the time afternoon classes rolled around, your nerves felt rubbed raw. You scribbled notes mechanically, barely processing the teacher’s words.
Beside you, Akaashi’s pen clicked softly. Once, twice. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye he wasn’t restless. He was watching the board intently, fingers fiddling absently with the pen’s clip. A nervous tick? The realization made something twist in your chest. Even someone as composed as him had little cracks in his calm exterior.
When the final bell rang, you were the first to start packing your things, eager to escape before the hallways filled. But in your rush, a notebook slipped from your desk and tumbled to the floor.
You reached for it only to freeze when another hand reached at the same time.
Akaashi.
He picked it up smoothly and handed it to you. “Here.” His tone was quiet, but not cold.
“Th-thank you.” You mumbled, hugging the notebook to your chest.
He nodded once, then returned to his own bag. That was it. No further comment. Yet something about the small gesture the way he hadn’t hesitated to help lingered as you walked home.
That night, you sat at your desk, homework spread before you but untouched. Your mind kept circling back to the classroom, to the way whispers had stung, to the way Akaashi’s calm eyes had seemed unbothered by your presence.
It wasn’t much. Just a nod, a returned notebook. But it was more than you’d expected from your first day.
Maybe sitting beside him wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet again.
It usually was.
Your parents are still at work during the darkening hours. That was the way things always were. You didn’t resent them for it. You knew they worked hard to keep things steady but sometimes, the silence pressed too hard against the walls.
You padded into the kitchen, tying an apron around your waist. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to cook, and truthfully, you didn’t mind. Over the years, the kitchen had become your safe place. You’d learned to fill the silence with the clatter of pans, the rhythm of chopping, the soft hiss of rice steaming.
Food was comfort. Food was control.
Even if you were cooking for one.
You chopped the colorful vegetables before tossing them in the pan, the comforting aroma filling the air mingled with the scent of fresh rice. It was a simple recipe, but the motions were soothing. By the time you finished storing your lunch away for the night, the kitchen smelled faintly of rice and soy.
You caught your reflection in the microwave door as you closed the lid, cheeks round, shoulders soft, eyes tired.
Already eatin-
You looked away quickly trying to forget the words of your classmates. Glancing down at the bento in your hands you were grateful that at least the bento looked nice.
The morning seemed to be no different, far too quiet for a home housing three.
You moved through your routine on autopilot uniform straightened, hair brushed, shoes slipped on neatly by the door. Upstairs, your parents’ bedroom was dark, as it always was at this hour. They’d left long before the sky awoke chasing deadlines and paychecks that kept the house running but left it hollow.
Your stomach grumbled faintly, but you ignored it. The thought of cooking breakfast made you ache with the memory of last night, standing in the kitchen doorway until your throat closed. You didn’t have the energy to face that room today. Instead, you slipped out the door with an empty stomach and the bento you’d forced yourself to prepare the night before.

Fukurodani buzzed with the same bright noise it always did. The chatter of classmates filled the air, laughter spilling between desks like it belonged there more than you ever could.
Sliding into your seat, you tucked your bento beneath the desk. Akaashi was already there, his posture neat, eyes lowered to the notes in front of him. He glanced up once calm, unreadable before nodding in greeting. His fingers brushed absently against one another in his lap, a small, steady motion.
That was it.
And yet, that nod grounded you more than you expected.

It didn’t take long for the whispers to start again.
“Did you see what they brought for lunch?” a girl murmured behind you, her voice pitched just low enough to seem private but sharp enough to cut.
“I guess some people just can’t help themselves.”
“Beside Akaashi-kun, no less. How embarrassing.”
A muffled giggle followed.
Your throat burned as you scribbled harder at your notebook, pretending to focus on the board. Your hand shook enough that the ink blotted, ruining the neatness you’d tried so hard to keep.
Beside you, Akaashi clicked his pen once, then set it down. His fingers pressed lightly against each other under the desk, folding and unfolding in a rhythm you’re starting to recognize. He wasn’t looking at you, but he wasn’t looking at the board either. His gaze lingered just long enough on your hunched shoulders before he returned to his notes, silent.
The girls’ laughter trailed off into bright, airy chatter the kind reserved for when Akaashi was paying attention. Their voices softened, sweetened. “Akaashi-kun, could I see your notes later? You’re always so organized.”
He gave a polite nod, fingers twitching once before stilling.
And the whispers disappeared again.

The bell rang snapping you out of your daze. You packed your books quickly, hands trembling, wishing you could slip out before anyone noticed.
But as you stood, your gaze caught on Akaashi’s desk. His hand was still, his pen neatly aligned with the edge of his notebook. His expression hadn’t shifted all day.
Yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had noticed something anyway.
The hallway thrummed with noise between classes shoes squeaking, voices tumbling over one another, the rush of students weaving past. You hugged your books tightly to your chest, trying to move with the current without drawing attention.
It wasn’t enough.
“Careful, L/N,” a voice chimed behind you, too sweet, too sharp. One of the girls.
You stiffened, glancing back just in time to catch her smile polished on the surface, cruel underneath.
“Wouldn’t want you to drop those.”
A moment later, her shoulder brushed yours harder than necessary. Not enough to knock you down, but just enough to loosen your grip.
Your notebooks slipped from your arms and scattered across the floor, pages fluttering like startled birds.
“Oh—oops,” she gasped, hand raised in mock surprise. Her friends giggled, one whispering, “Clumsy.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You dropped to your knees, scrambling to gather your things before the rest of the hallway could notice.
Then another hand reached down at the same time.
Akaashi.
He crouched smoothly, hair falling slightly into his eyes as he stacked the papers you’d missed. He held them out without hesitation. “Here.”
His voice was calm, not pity, no quiet questions. Just steady.
“Th-thank you,” you murmured, hugging the pile to your chest.
He gave a small nod. His other hand shifted faintly at his side, fingers brushing against one another as though they needed something to hold.
The noise of the hallway faded around you for a heartbeat. His calm steadiness pressed against the sting of laughter still ringing in your ears, grounding you in a way you didn’t know you needed.
You ducked your head. “Sorry… I should’ve been more careful.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His words were simple, matter-of-fact. But his gaze lingered on you a beat longer than it should before he stood.
The bell rang, scattering footsteps as students hurried off. Akaashi adjusted the strap of his bag, his fingers twitching once against the fabric before he slipped back into the classroom without another word.
You stayed a moment longer, heart thudding strangely, clutching your books to your chest.
Bullies had left you scattered.
Akaashi had put you back together.
Even if he didn’t realize it.